Lost Chances
by Barryium
Summary: Three years after the war ended. Hermione and Malfoy find themselves on the same side trying to stop consistent Death Eater attacks and vandalisms. But then bodies start turning up - the dead kind. And a group of Dark wizards are looking into resurrection.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so this is my very first fanfiction! I know I'm so very, very proud of myself too! ;D I seriously just started writing this one-shot about 3 hours ago and it's already finished, so... WOO HOO! Anyways, I wouldn't mind adding another chapter after this just to tie all the loose ends up (would that make it a two-shot?) but on one condition... and I think that you know what it is... REVIEWS! "Of course!" Your probably thinking. "Should've seen THAT coming!" But we authors do so love our reviews and so you know the drill... R&R**

**Tell me what you think please! You never know... YOUR review might be the one that inspires me to write another chapter *winks***

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><p><strong>Lost Chances<strong>

"What that hell do you want this time, Malfoy?" I growled. Draco Malfoy leant against the door frame, effectively blocking any thoughts of an escape from my office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Don't play dumb, Hermione." He said firmly. "You're the brightest witch of our age, so don't you _dare_ pretend that what happened last week on that raid never happened."

And I did remember. Though I wished that I didn't.

I wished that I hadn't acted so impulsively.

"I don't want to talk about it," I stated politely and gave him a tight smile as I stood up from my desk. "Now, Mr Malfoy, if you do not leave my department and return to your Auror Department I'll have you written up by Undersecretary Bones-"

"Fuck the Undersecretary. I know that we haven't seen each other before last week since Hogwarts, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that I wanted to explore what happened during that raid."

"And I'd be lying if I said that I were interested," I sniffed, shuffling papers around on my desk in an effort to look busy.

"Damn it, Hermione! Why can't-"

"You have _no_ right to use my first name!" I yelled at him. I no longer really cared if any of my employees heard me, I was so mad that if they confronted me I wouldn't hesitate to Bat Bogey Hex their arses. I gathered my reports and shoved past him, determined to take these to Harry who would then look into their being possible Death Eater activity. They were on the break in at the Oxford Ministry branch where nothing was stolen, just vandalised.

With the Dark Mark.

The same mark that would permanently be on Malfoy's forearm. The symbol for an evil that had caused me so much pain and loss, most notably, the loss of my parents whom I still hadn't been able to find even after it being three years after the war. Though in the back of my mind I knew it was impossible to get them back, my memory charm had been too powerful to be undone without serious brain damage, so even if I did find them, they would never _ever_ remember having a daughter named Hermione. A daughter that had loved them so much that she had had to sacrifice her past just so that they could be assured a future.

I had to stop thinking about them, it just hurt too much.

I strode through my department making a beeline for elevators when someone grabbed my hand, and I knew who it was before I even turned around to face him.

Malfoy looked down at me, his blonde fringe falling into his suddenly miserable looking grey eyes. "Why, Hermione? Why don't you like me?"

I gaped. He _had_ to be joking. As if he could _not _know why I hated him.

I looked around my department quickly, a lot of people were watching us from their desks but hastily put their heads down when I established eye contact but I knew that they'd be listening in to every word that was said.

But I refused to let them deter me.

"How about the fact that you made my years at Hogwarts _horrible_, continually teased my hair and teeth, discriminated against my blood status, which – might I add – is not something that I can control, sided against me in the War, were involved in the plot to kill Dumbledore and aided Voldemort in his fight against the Order – which he very nearly won – _and_ nearly killed Harry, Ron and I in the Room of Requirement." I counted them off on my fingers. Seven. Seven strikes against him just like there were seven horcruxes. Not to mention the fact that Malfoy flinched when I'd said Voldemort's name.

Malfoy – and my whole department – went deathly quiet. I swear that you could've heard a pin drop from down the hall in the Department of Embroidery and Fashionable Designs.

It was after a few minutes of internal struggle that he hesitantly lifted his hand to cup my face gently, I slapped it away. His grey eyes were full of regret when he spoke. "I've changed Hermione. I don't care about those stupid "blood prejudices" anymore, their childish and I'm so sorry that I hurt you. But I was born into a Dark family where I had no choice-"

"_Everyone_ has a choice, Malfoy. Don't say that you didn't, because there were plenty of opportunities for you to seek sanctuary from the Order, even after Dumbledore was dead," I snapped.

"And what about my parents?" He asked sullenly. "They would have killed them, and we both know that there was no way that the Order would have provided sanctuary to either of my parents. I truly had no choice."

We were silent for a few more minutes before he started again. "Do you know that I'd had a crush on you in our first year? On the train to Hogwarts we met briefly, remember? I had no idea of your blood status at the time, of course, but I was immediately taken with you. The way you flourished your wand, spoke the longest words to sound smart, the way magic came to you so easily like it was really just at the tip of your fingers. I thought immediately that you had to be a Pureblood, because I naively thought that only Purebloods could use magic so easily. I immediately wrote to my father," he suddenly chuckled darkly, "and told him that I'd marry you and make him proud. It's a feeling that I'm starting to recover again."

I stood stunned and stricken at his confession, but I refused to be swayed. "Until you remember that my blood is dirty again," I muttered.

"Never." He stated.

We stared at each other for a long time, and I forgot that we were in the middle of my department, with my employees and colleagues watching closely. All that I knew were those grey-blue eyes, fathomless yet displaying so much emotion for me that my heart squeezed. I wanted to stay there in that exact spot and moment forever with him. Never moving. Never changing. Forever... It sounded quite pleasant when put like that. But I knew that I couldn't just hand over my heart so easily and hope that he could fill the black hole that was left behind by my parents.

I still had one more strike against him.

"Then why?" I whispered.

Malfoy frowned. "Why what?" He asked softly, lifting his hand hesitantly up to my face again. I didn't slap it away this time.

"If you'd loved me," I began quietly, rolling up my sleeve and baring the word that had been carved into my skin three years ago by his aunt. "Then why didn't you save me?"

There was an audible gasp from some of the people at the desks closest to Malfoy and I who were able to see my scar, and there were many people in the room turning their heads in obviously painful directions to see why everyone had gasped. But I ignored them all. I wanted to know how someone who claimed to have fallen in love with me at the innocent age of eleven could watch her get tortured six years later and not lift a finger to help.

His expression was pained, and I could feel the tears starting to build up in my eyes. I turned away from him, sure at any moment my heart would break at passing up the chance to fill the void inside of me. Perhaps it already was?

"And now you're here to confess your undying love for me in a fit of sudden passion to try to get me to see reason. In front of all my colleagues too! As if that would change anything..." I started to stride away.

"But – Hermione, I do love you!" I stopped again, and I couldn't stop the tears in my eyes from brimming over and running down my face. There was a sharp pain in my heart and I inhaled sharply against the pain, but it ebbed away in numbness. Everything was numb now, as if all my feeling were being kept behind a foot thick glass wall, able to see them but not touch them. Malfoy had pushed me over the precipice that I had been balancing on since I'd cast that memory charm so many years ago, I would probably never be able to heal and allow myself to love now.

"Do _not_ call me 'Hermione'," I said coldly, still facing away from him. "You can call me 'Granger' or 'Miss Granger' or even 'Mudblood', but you have never earned yourself the right to talk to me so intimately."

He was silent for a long while before I took a quick glance at him over my shoulder. He seemed to almost be in physical pain, he was panting so heavily, and he had a hand half outstretched towards me. But that wasn't what made my heart shrivel and begin to die. It was the tears running down his cheeks and the desperate look in his grey eyes that turned my soul cold.

I was the evil one in this scenario, there was no denying _that_. I bit my lip and turned away, ready to just curl up and die of my self inflicted injuries.

"Please – just give me a chance!" He cried out.

I started walking again.

"You had your chance when we were eleven."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Report

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or concepts in this story and make no profit from it.**

**Chapter 2: The Report**

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><p>"Hermione," Harry greeted as I walked into his tiny office. "Do you have those reports that you wanted to show me?"<p>

"Yeah," I said, placing the folder in front of him and taking a look around. It was the first time I had actually seen his office, which he now had after his promotion to Assistant to the Deputy Head of the Auror Office. It was certainly a small office, with the desk taking up most of the space in the room on which sat a picture of Ginny, a large stack of parchment, a small pot of ink and various other writing utensils scattered haphazardly around the room. There were two chairs in front of Harry's desk and I sat in one of them while Harry eyed me suspiciously.

"You've been crying," he noted suddenly. "What's wrong, Hermione?"

I hesitated. I didn't want Harry and Ron fighting my own battles for me, Merlin forbid, I was more than capable. But there was a part of me that noticed that by voicing these troubles to Harry – to anyone – would be giving them credit, would be making what Malfoy had said to me real.

"Where's Ron?" I asked instead. Ron – or so I had heard – had been ecstatic about Harry's office and had been practically _living_ in Harry's office ever since he had gotten it, much to Harry's amusement. Apparently he had spent a week in here, leaving only for trips to the privy, before Harry had put his foot down and had kicked him out.

"He's gone to lunch, thank Merlin!" Harry grinned before sobering up again. "What has happened, Hermione?"

Again, I was silent. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to talk about it, especially with Harry. After the war, Harry, Ron _and_ Malfoy had all become Aurors – I know, the irony wasn't lost on me either of having a Death Eater turn into an Auror – and all three of them were now well respected Aurors in their own right as well as being favourites to take over as the Head of the Auror Office when Williamson decided to retire. The Malfoy name was no longer as shunned as it had been by the Wizarding community for the first few years after the war, and now he was actually well liked – impressed even. To be truthful, it frightened me how such a Dark family could once again reach such a high level of respect in the public eye in just three years. Why couldn't they remember how much that the Malfoy's had supported Voldemort during the war? They had been responsible for the death of Dumbledore as well as several other atrocities, I'm sure.

Harry's perplexed frown softened as he seemed struck by an idea. "Was it Malfoy?" He asked me softly, his bright green eyes radiating comfort.

I looked at him sharply. "How... what makes you...?" I didn't understand_. How could he know? He wasn't there._ I thought. Surely people weren't gossiping already, were they? I'd need to talk to my Department to ensure that none of this reached the Daily Prophet.

He sighed. "Hermione, it was obvious to everyone that was on the raid last week that something happened between you two." He held up a hand as I began to protest. "I don't care what happened, Hermione. But whatever it was, Malfoy hasn't been able to concentrate since he was released from St. Mungo's on Friday."

I frowned. "Harry, he confronted me in front of my entire department!"

This time it was Harry's turn to frown. "I'll have a talk with him, if that's what you want?"

I thought about it for a moment, and then sighed in defeat. "No, Harry. Don't worry about it, but thanks anyway. Now, let's talk about this report. These vandalisms have been becoming more and more aggressive; in the last six months there have been approximately thirteen attacks, eight of which victims were muggle. There seems to be no connection between the victims apart from the fact that the victims have identified their attackers as wearing Death Eater masks and black robes."

Harry's frown deepened. "I didn't know that there were any attacks."

"Yeah, the Department of Mysteries decided to keep that little fact under wraps," I scowled. "From any other Department I would have heard sooner, but – as you know – the Department of Mysteries falls outside my jurisdiction. And Unspeakable Kallen doesn't like me very much; I actually had to break into the Department of Mysteries to get those reports."

"Wh-what?" Harry gaped, reminding me a little bit of a fish. "Hermione, you – what?"

I laughed at his expression, it made my insides feel slightly better after my encounter with Malfoy, and it reminded me of the happier days at Hogwarts – before the war. "Well, these reports were technically supposed to be handled by my Department, not by the Unspeakables. I was just taking back what was mine, and I figured that since I had already broken into the Department of Mysteries once it wouldn't be that hard to do it again. Actually, it was quite easy."

"Merlin's beard, Hermione!"

"Focus Harry, on the reports." I reprimanded lightly.

"Right, right..." Harry said, taking a steadying breath. "But _really_ Hermione..."

"Anyway. These attacks have become progressively vicious, the last living victim had his left arm torn off, his right foot twisted and stuck at a 180 degree angle-"

"_Living?_"

"Yes, Harry. _Living_. Nine of the victims are now dead, either killed by the attacker or dying from their injuries at St. Mungo's. This is becoming something serious, Harry. And I get the feeling that it has something to do with Voldemort, and I'm not just saying that because the attacker – or _attackers –_ was dressed as a Death Eater."

Harry stared at me in shock. "Hermione, Voldemort is dead. He has to be. We destroyed all the horcruxes; it just isn't possible that he could have survived. Yes, I know, don't say it. The Ministry has been wrong before about Voldemort's death, but we did what they didn't before. We knew about the horcruxes – we _destroyed_ the horcruxes."

"But," I started hesitantly. "Harry, what if we were wrong?" I lowered my voice.

"About what?"

"About everything!" I exclaimed softly. "What if we were wrong? What if Dumbledore was wrong? What if Voldemort had more than seven horcruxes? He's killed enough times, Harry. It would've been too easy for him to make another one..."

"Hermione-" Harry began.

"You think that I'm overreacting, don't you?" I interrupted angrily.

"No! Merlin no! Hermione," Harry started. "I agree with you entirely. If you say that there's something more to it, then I believe you. But – don't roll your eyes, Hermione – I just think that we need to know more before we start thinking of Voldemort being resurrected _again_."

"There's more to the report, Harry."

"Tell me."

"The victims – all of them, both living and dead – have something very similar to the Dark Mark on their arm. That's the reason why the Department of Mysteries had these reports – they were studying the Dark Mark looking tattoos on their arms."

Harry's eyes sharpened inquisitively. "Were the tattoos muggle-made?"

"No, magical."

"How are they different from the normal Dark Mark?"

I took a deep breath. "The marks are very similar, but instead of a skull with a snake coming out of its jaw, it's a screaming face – the victim's face – with a snake coming out of its mouth, occasionally biting the victim's face, tearing away flesh."

Harry shuddered but I could still see the curiosity behind the disgust in his eyes. "Okay Hermione, I'll bite. I'll open it as an official investigation and take care of it personally."

"Oh, no you don't! I could have easily have done that as Deputy Head to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I could have had my Warders on this case, but I decided that'd it be more prudent to have the Auror Office look after it, as your office can provide more confidentiality. However, I want full control of this case – alongside yourself, of course."

Harry blinked, but didn't seem too surprised. "You're asking me to make this case a confidential Auror investigation, and make you the leading investigator." He ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. "Merlin, Hermione! I'm not even sure if I'm allowed to do that, it's not like I'm Head of the Auror Office. Williamson wouldn't be happy; he's been increasingly ferocious lately as the Daily Prophet is breathing down his neck waiting for him to slip up so that they can press the whole retirement thing onto him. He's been under a lot of pressure lately."

I smiled triumphantly; if Jack was the only problem in my way then I would definitely get what I want. "Don't worry about Williamson, I can handle him. He'll be like putty in my hands once I'm done with him."

Jack Williamson – the Head of the Auror Office – was a severe and stubborn man in his mid-fifties, who the Daily Prophet had recently turned on in favour of Harry. I was on especially friendly terms with Jack through our common grief after the war, where I had lost both my parents, he had lost his wife and daughter. I viewed him almost like a father, and I got the feeling that he viewed me as a replacement for his dead daughter.

Harry smiled and shook his head in defeat. "Fine, I'll do it. But if I get reprimanded by Williamson, I'm blaming it all on you."

"That's the spirit," I cheered. "I'm so glad that you'll stick your neck out for me."

Harry chuckled and I found myself smiling back. "Hermione, Williamson won't leave me a neck if I stick it out."

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><p>I took the lift down from the second level back to my office, being cautious not to run into Malfoy on my way in.<p>

"Is he still here?" I asked my assistant, Penelope, as I walked past her desk. Penelope was a glamorous woman with long, straight caramel coloured hair just a few years older than myself. She was exceedingly efficient at completing the tasks and jobs I gave her and I valued her greatly.

"No," she whispered back conspiratorially. "He left not long after you did; we thought perhaps that he had gone after you." She paused for a moment. "Are you okay?"

I nodded nonchalantly. "Listen, I'm going to go home."

"That's fine," Penelope smiled. "Just relax tonight."

"Listen, Penelope, would you be able to do me a massive favour?" I asked hesitantly.

"Of course." No hesitation whatsoever.

"I need you to tell everyone that saw or heard what happened between Mr Malfoy and myself under wraps, we need to avoid the Daily Prophet making a nuisance of themselves. And whoever lets this spread will receive such a tongue-lashing that they won't be able to sit down for a week, and I _will_ find out who gossiped," I threatened darkly.

Penelope grinned, her eyes sparkling. "I would be delighted, Miss Granger."

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><p><em>A black robed figure walked the empty London streets late at night. Waiting in ambush for his next victim. He enjoyed the physical pain he put them through, it was more grotesque than the Cruciatus Curse and not as easy to do as he had to expend more energy in doing it, but it was worth it.<em>

_A woman walked down the street in front of him alone. Perfect. The tapping of her high heel shoes on the sidewalk was both alluring and irritating to him. He'd make sure that it stopped._

_He moved forward, feeling his groin to tighten in aroused anticipation. _This was going to be too easy_, he thought, taking out his wand._

_First, he'd tie her up._

_Then he'd magically bend back each and every one of her fingertips until her fingernails burst._

_Then maybe set her hair on fire. _Hmm, _he thought,_ perhaps not. Don't want her to die too early...

_He stalked her home, not realising that he himself was being shadowed by something infinitely more sinister._

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, so I've decided to turn this One-Shot into a full-fledged story. Reviews would be appreciated ;D So, what do you think of this chapter? I know that there was no Malfoy-Granger interaction, but I don't want him to be in every single chapter, it just doesn't seem realistic. Also, what do you think of the creepy guy at the end, I get the feeling that he's not your average stalker, but I guess that we'll see.**

**Anywho, I'm on school holidays right now, so I'll try to update soon, but I need to study also. It sucks, I know. But sometimes real life just has to take priority :( Thanks to everyone that reviewed for my last chapter and I dedicate this chapter to you guys. You are all awesome! :D**


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